the poem on the corner

this morning

a superstitious mockingbird waged war

on an unlucky friday the 13th black cat kitten

unschooled in the power of words and calendars

                                         thinking it play 

batting at feathers with soft paws and sheathed claws

batting at air where once anger flew

batting zilch zero nada sa-wing  battah battah

but this bird had flown

                    gone

           damage done

black cat kitten innocence scatted away

there are poems on every corner, this one early this morning waiting on me, just a glance from the corner of my eye, where, in fact, most of the poems hide, leaving it up to me to notice.  the poem this afternoon is the pattern of red stripes across the bottom of the tv screen, mute, the pattern of silence against the red notes of a cardinal hidden in the pecan tree, notes flung to the sky and answered by the breeze singing back through the catawba blossoms.

the tv crawl reads north korea something

and my shoulder begins to tighten,

the dryer falls quiet

the cat falls to sleep

we all fall down and this ain't no rabbit hole;

this is the truth squared.

i change channels

and it's north carolina

and world war II

and a red porch across the bottom of the screen.

patterns continue,

clouds cover the blue sky,

and all the birds all fall silent.

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day 13 of NaPoWriMo, national poetry writing month.

a poem a day.